Twilight Redux
by Camp Queen
Summary: Bella Swan moves to the town of Forks, Washington and encounters a world she never knew.  This, too, is a story both familiar and different.  Alternate Universe/Alternate Continuity; an experimental work
1. Preface

Preface

I don't like writing prefaces. I don't like writing author's notes. A story should stand on its own with no explanation, and if the author has to explain things about the story directly to the readers I can't help but think they're doing this whole "writing" thing wrong.

However, this really needs an explanation. So, please indulge this overly long explanation as to why this story exists.

I'm not a fan of Twilight. I could never get into it, though I bought the books and analyzed them and tried to understand what was so wonderful about them. I didn't particularly hate the books, either- for what they were ( a story which sold the fantasy of being a teenage girl with a perfect boyfriend), they were adequate. What disappointed me the most was that they weren't _more._ I was hoping for a story more oriented towards adults, I suppose, a series that focused on characters and their intricate relationships and the consequences thereof. Again, the books work perfectly fine as a teenage fantasy. Their success is evidence enough of that. As time went on, though, and their popularity grew, I began to wonder "what if?" What if the books were more akin to my expectations? What if they were adult literature instead of young adult, focused on the "fantasy" label instead of the "romance" one? Better put, "What if these books were written for a different audience?" Would the haters change their minds? Would the fandom still enjoy the series?

My answer to these questions is this story. I do not presume to think I can improve upon the original. Regardless of what you think of Mrs. Meyer's writing, I can assure you mine is worse. I aim to take Twilight, the characters and events therein, and reorient it towards a more mature audience. This is mainly a personal project, done for my own satisfaction. Some events will remain the same, and others will change. The beginning will likely be almost identical to the books, though large changes most likely will manifest. Usually this sort of thing would remain drawerfic, but I believe it could also be an opportunity to improve my writing. Because of this, I ask you to please leave all kinds of critique. Concrit, praise, flames- I love it all. Everything can be learned from, and that's really what this is: an exercise. Learning.

I know this skirts even closer to copyright infringement than usual. It is my own arrogance that leads me to post this; well, arrogance and the suggestion of my English professor. If there is a problem with this fic, legally that is, please let me know. I am more than willing to shove it back in the drawer where it belongs. Until then, however, please indulge me.

Thank you.


	2. Chapter One

-(1)-

It was a long plane ride to Forks, Washington.

Maybe that wasn't entirely accurate. I hadn't been sitting here long enough for my legs to turn to jello, despite how it might feel. The plane seat was cramped and near the window, which, while affording me a lovely if slightly dirt-stained view of clouds, also gave me the duty of being the side-pillow of the person next to me. I missed Phoenix already. It wasn't exactly the flying that bothered me, however I may complain. It was the uncertainty of the new life I was facing.

It was entirely my choice to be on this plane to nowhere, believe it or not. My mother, Renee, and my father, Charlie, had lived apart with Mom raising me after their divorce when I was small. I'd never been given any reason to doubt their happiness with the separation and despite having to spend a few weekends out of the year in Nowhereland, was also fine with the arrangement. Mom was a free and flighty spirit- Dad, the Police Chief. I wasn't sure how they had met, but I always envisioned it (probably highly inaccurately) to involve the Sixties, hippies, and perhaps a bank robbery.

The problem with my mother's aforementioned free spirit was an unfortunate tendency to get into trouble. She had always been there when I needed her, and likely always would be, but she didn't seem to be able to function well on her own. I served the role a husband usually would, in a way, when I became old enough. It became my job to check up on her, make sure she remembered the more mundane aspects of daily life. It brought us closer, but at the same time was a bit tiring. I had no siblings to remind me I was a child, and she often called me her 'little adult'.

So, I was happy when she married Phil. He filled that spot that I had for so long. He stabilized her, made certain she was taken care of. He also happened to be a professional baseball player, which meant that he traveled and was financially stable. This was great for her, but not so great for me. I was fairly certain that two adults still newly married enough to be in the honeymoon stage would prefer not to have a kid tagging along in their travels. That wasn't the only thing, of course; as I finished out high school, I wanted to be able to do so in a consistent environment. Unfortunately, the only place available to me at the moment was the rainy, hazy town of Forks- with Charlie.

"If you ever want to come with us, just let me know," she'd said as she was seeing me off at the Phoenix airport. "You'll always be welcome here." In my memory, her smile was marred slightly by tears.

By contrast, all I could recall of Charlie was his sternness and awkwardness towards me. It must be strange for all fathers to see their daughters grow up, and when they're mostly removed from her life it's probably even stranger. He wasn't exactly demonstrative with his feelings, either- a trait I shared. If nothing else, living in Forks would hopefully improve our relationship. It probably couldn't make it worse.

After a few more hours of staring out the window, and a layover or two of lazing around an airport's waiting area, the plane finally landed in Port Angeles. It was an hour away from Forks, which really only goes to show how out-of-the-way Forks is. It was raining, a light drizzle that would probably only get worse as the day went on. Out of the obvious differences between Arizona and Washington the rain was probably the most depressing. I was a child of the sun.

Outside of the airport, Charlie waited with the police cruiser. He didn't seem to know if he should smile and wave or not when he saw me and the result was a strange facial twitch that frankly didn't look healthy. I ignored the strange looks from the few people also waiting for their rides and approached him, wary. He looked at me for a long moment, put out his arms as if offering me a hug, and we kind of gripped each others' sides until the awkwardness got to be too much and we pulled away, looking equally mortified. After another moment I smiled at him, and he smiled in response. The ice was broken.

"I'm happy you're here, Bells. Really. You haven't changed a bit!" I glared at him a little, and he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, you're more mature now, of course. And prettier. And…" I let him stumble for a moment more, trying (and probably failing) to hold back giggles.

He seemed to catch on eventually. "Oh. You were… kidding." Charlie frowned.

I laughed and patted his arm in an attempt to be reassuring. "I'm glad to see you, Dad." He nodded, and a few wrinkles between his eyebrows disappeared.

"How's Renee?" he asked.

"She's fine."

"Good." Charlie's brow crinkled again a little but cleared quickly.

We then proceeded to put what little luggage I had in the trunk of the cruiser. Due to the myriad differences in climate between Phoenix and here, a lot of my clothing was unsuitable. What little winter wear I did have I brought with me, and what I'd lacked Mom and I had taken a quick shopping trip to buy a few days ago. If I needed anything else, she'd said, I could always just shop somewhere nearby. I didn't recall the shops in Forks being exactly fashionable, but there had to be somewhere else, maybe Seattle. It was something to think about, at any rate.

After we'd driven a while and had only silence as our companion, Charlie looked over at me and said, after a little throat-clearing, "I found a cheap car for you."

"Oh?" It was easy to be suspicious of something like that. Although Charlie was more put-together than my mother, many years of seeing decisions made without accompanying research and judgments made on things like color and flashiness made me wary.

"It's a truck. A Chevy…?" He looked over at me again, trying to judge my reaction.

I had no problem with trucks. They were just a little… well, I couldn't really envision myself in one. Imagine: a pale, thin brunette sitting in a huge truck that absolutely engulfed her. "What kind of Chevy truck?"

"I'm not actually sure. He bought it in 1984, but it was used. Maybe… the sixties?" Charlie sounded a little sheepish.

That explained why it had come "cheap". There was quite a bit more to be said about that, but something else had piqued my curiosity. "Who's 'he'?" I asked.

"Who…? Oh, Billy Black. Do you remember him? We used to go fishing together, the three of us, when you came to visit when you were younger." He looked at me hopefully. After a moment of confused searching through my memory banks, I vaguely recalled a few boring hours of staring at a body of water and nodded.

"Sort of."

"He's in a wheelchair these days, and doesn't drive. He was selling cheap, it was a good truck, and you needed a car, so…"

"I understand." I did. I still didn't see how this was a good idea, though I appreciated Charlie thinking of me. "How does it run? If it broke down, I doubt I could fix it."

"They made things pretty well, back in the good ol' days. Billy's done a lot of work on the engine, too. It'll do you well while you're here, I don't expect you to drive it forever." He gave me an encouraging half-smile.

I realized, suddenly, that he wasn't speaking in hypothetical terms. "Did you-"

Now Charlie looked embarrassed, and kept his eyes carefully on the road. "I thought it could be a homecoming gift. Of sorts. If really want, I guess I could do something else…" His voice trailed off, and silence quickly rushed back in to take its place.

I weighed the decision. Free cars were always good, of course. It was nice of him to even think of me. Refusing would just be rude. "You didn't have to do that." I paused, trying to figure out how to phrase my thanks. "But, I'm glad you thought of me. It was… really nice of you."

"I want you to be happy here, is all." The silence returned for another minute or so.

I wanted to be happy in Forks too. It wouldn't be the same; that was a guarantee. It wasn't exactly my favorite place in the world. I hadn't chosen to come here because I loved the people or wanted the excitement of keeping up with an umbrella everywhere I went. I had chosen to come here, though, and so complaining wouldn't help anyone. Even if it did mean that I might never see the sun again.

Okay, maybe a little complaining was unavoidable. I swore to myself I wouldn't indulge in it too often, though.

"Thanks." Charlie nodded a little in acknowledgment.

After more driving, but less conversation, I turned to staring out of the window. After a brief bit of déjà vu, I realized that it was even greener than I remembered. The rainfall must've worked wonders for the plant life- the trees were lush and seemed vibrant even beneath the gray sky. The ferns glistened and so did the grass, the type of shades you'd usually only find in paintings. It was beautiful, to be sure, but rather shocking for someone used to more desert-flavored terrain. It'd probably grow on me over time, as it likely had in the past, but at the moment it was almost disturbing.

By the time we arrived at Charlie's house, I was ready to get indoors. He still lived in the same house he had when he was still married to Mom. It was small and cozy despite being two stories, with two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. It was beige-colored, with a bit of peeling paint, and typical black shutters and black shingles. It wasn't an unpleasant house, and it wasn't particularly a standout either. With Charlie living on his own, and probably busy with work, he'd likely never had reason to change it. I didn't mind- I appreciated the familiarity.

My homecoming present was sitting out front, cheery-if-faded red beckoning me. I took a moment to look it over, inspecting the outside and inside in turn. It was certainly sturdy- there were nicks and scratches along the rounded fenders that stood as a testament to how much it had survived. The interior had aged nicely, and although it creaked a bit when I sat in the driver's seat it was surprisingly comfortable. It also wasn't too big- I fit perfectly inside it. I was bordering on amazed, and actually looked forward to seeing if it would run.

"Thanks, Dad." I smiled with as much warmth as I could muster, and Charlie muttered something about being glad as he ushered me inside the house while looking embarrassed.

My bedroom was on the upper floor and overlooked the western section of the front yard. It too remained the same as when I was a child. The only new additions were a desk with a computer and a larger bed. The room's floor was wooden and a bit dusty, with powder blue walls. Lace curtains, yellowed around the edges with age, fluttered against the window halfheartedly. Charlie left me alone as I unpacked.

Having my old room was nice, though it didn't really suit a high school junior. It was also nice to be alone with my thoughts. I only had tonight to get my brain in order. In order to help the transition go faster, tomorrow I was going ahead and starting out at Forks High School. It was a smart move, I was pretty sure. In such a small town transfers were probably very rare. I didn't relish the thought of being the new girl, but the sooner I got it over with the sooner it was, well, over. At least I could probably fit in physically. I wasn't an athlete, due to my unfortunate habit of tripping over my own feet, so my skinniness was limited to scrawny limbs and flat chest. My pale skin seemed to be genetic, as no amount of tanning seemed to make any difference beyond painful burns, and my hair and eyes were dark. You likely couldn't tell I came from a sunny city just from looking at me. Maybe I would be able to sneak in, integrate myself, like a mundane and teenage Mata Hari.

No, probably not. No harm in fantasizing, though.

My clothes, minimal as they were, were easy to find places for in the dresser in the corner. I took my toiletries to the bathroom and tried to find an out-of-the-way place to stash them. Charlie kept his razor on the counter near his shaving cream and toothbrush, so I put my makeup bag in the cabinet underneath.

Traveling had left me feeling grimy, and after locating Charlie's towels and putting my shampoo and body wash in the shower, I locked the door and began to undress. The shower's water was warm and welcoming. I wondered idly how Mom was doing as I washed. She was probably missing me, of course, but also enjoying having some alone time with Phil. Teenagers could be stressful on a relationship, and she deserved to have a second chance with the best possible scenario for success. Or maybe that's just how I justified my selfishness in avoiding travel. Ironically, to avoid traveling with Mom and Phil, I had traveled here. And wasn't sure how much happier I'd be.

Charlie wasn't my mother, that's for sure. She would have been all over me- trying to help me unpack, trying and failing to cook me dinner to welcome me, making certain I was nothing less than happy. Charlie was more distant, but that wasn't a bad thing. It might be what I needed, to have some space. It was too soon to tell.

Regardless of Charlie, I felt a little homesick. Standing here under the spray of the water, I realized how much I missed my mom. I wouldn't hug her before I went to bed, and she wouldn't see me off to school in the morning. When I came home from Forks High School, whether my day turned out to be good or bad, I wouldn't have my mother to welcome me home with a smile. The tiredness finally hit me, and I may have cried a little. It was hard to tell.

Finally, after I'd been in long enough to have wrinkles form on my fingertips, I felt the water start to run cold and took that as my cue to leave. Tomorrow was a new day, a new start, and with a slightly anxious heart (and without even bothering to dry my hair and only putting on underwear and a t-shirt) I returned to my room to go to bed.


End file.
